


Mermaid Girl

by tryslora



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Community: daily_deviant, F/M, Fear of Death, Fear of Drowning, Slow Sex, Water Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 09:22:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3405461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie loves the water; Gabrielle has a fear to get over and there is something about Charlie <i>in</i> the water that appeals to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mermaid Girl

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the January prompt at Daily Deviant of "everything old is new again." I chose the 2014 prompts of aquaphilia (being turned on by the water) and bradycubia (slow thrusting/sex) for this story. I have a thing about Gabrielle and water after the events in _Goblet of Fire_ and it was a joy to get to explore that fear in this. As always, I do not own the world nor characters of Harry Potter, I just like to play with them.

Gabrielle stands barefoot at the edge of the ocean, her toes inches away from the water. She is frozen, toes dug into soft sand, unable to go forward or back, as if any sudden movement might cause the water to rise up and attack.

It’s unreasonable, she knows, but that is what fear _is_. There is no sense to a phobia, merely an existence and a reaction.

She hates it. Hates this weakness in herself, this way that she cannot function as others do.

“Seem a bit overdressed for a swim, darlin’.”

She flushes, pale skin heating abruptly as she lifts her chin and crosses her arms before turning to glare at Charlie Weasley. “I do not swim,” she says, her accent clipping English words in unusual ways. “Please, feel free to go in if you wish, but I want nothing to do with the water.”

“Don’t mind me then.” He stands at the edge beside her, fingers casually picking at the buttons of his jeans, opening them up to show bright red underpants beneath. She watches because he lets her as he skims his t-shirt from his broad frame, revealing a chest covered in red fur and a maze of ink and scars. He pauses, fingers hooked beneath the band of his jeans and pants at the same time, and winks at her. “You’re about to get an eyeful, baby sister.”

“I am not your sister,” she reminds him; after all, they are only linked by her sister’s marriage to his brother. “And I have seen it before.”

He laughs, long and loud and deep, turning to face away from her. It isn’t propriety, not with the way he edges the fabric down over his freckled bum, revealing it in slow inches until it all drops away. He kicks the clothing to one side, turning to show slim hips and a prick of magnificent size even while soft, nestled against thick red curls. “You haven’t seen anything like this. Feel free to stay; I never mind watchers.”

“All you are going to do is swim!” she calls after him as he strides into the water, daring it to swallow him. Her breath catches when he pauses and dives out, disappearing beneath the chill waves, then resurfacing just at the moment she thinks she might forget how to inhale.

He splashes, swimming for moments, then diving under but always coming back. Charlie fights the waves as Gabrielle cannot, and he bests them.

Her hearts sinks for him to see her weakness. To know that she is not brave like him.

He paddles in close enough to stand, rising wet and dripping, his body slick with water. He pushes hair from his eyes, rubs at his chest before his hand dips lower. “Enjoying the show?” he calls out.

“Very much.” She tilts her chin, tries to be remote. Aloof. Her grand-mère has always taught her to hold herself apart, use her Veela blood to tempt men but to keep them at arm’s length so they do not take what she does not wish to give.

Of course, Gabrielle has had her moments of drawing men in, letting them sink into her, plunder her until she screams and finally lets them have their pleasure.

Then there are men like Charlie, the ones who are never affected. She would wonder if women held no appeal, but she saw him when he thought no one observed, during Bill and Fleur’s wedding, where he had his way with no less than three different women before the attack shattered the peace of their lives. She was young, but she knew what she saw.

He is far more impressive now, standing dripping before her in full view, not seen through the crack of an open door.

“You could come in and join me,” he suggests, one hand held out to her, and she takes an unwitting step back, as if he might pull her bodily into the water.

She shakes her head, crosses her arms more tightly around herself. “No. Thank you.”

“Your loss.” He turns and dives back into the water, twisting to lie on his back, feet idly paddling to keep him afloat, one hand stroking down over his own chest.

He must have a charm to help him float, or else he dares the sea to swallow him as he lets one hand lazily cup his soft prick, stroking it until it grows hard. Her eyes widen, her tongue flicks across her lips to see him like this, pleasuring himself for her view.

“You could join me.” His voice is quiet, carrying across the water to her ears alone, and she feels herself go damp between the legs. She _could_ join him, and she wishes to do so. She wants to know what it would feel like to have him split her on his prick, to have him _fuck_ her. She has no illusions that she would control Charlie Weasley, nor any desire to do so.

He comes to his feet again, walking slowly from the water. It slides from his body, drips from the length of his rigid prick, and her mouth waters.

“I can’t.” She lets her mouth curve in a smile, knows exactly how to let the pheromones seep from her skin, enticing him. “You can stay with me on the beach.”

“In the sand? I don’t think so.” He crooks a finger. “Come a little closer. I won’t bite, Gabrielle. Unless you ask me to.”

She inches forward, one bare toe brushing against cold water, and she yanks it back. Her gaze drops, unable to look him in the eye. “I can’t.”

There’s a soft sound, then a cold, wet finger draws a line along her jaw, tilting her head up. His brow is furrowed in concern. “Can’t?” She shakes her head, and his fingers cup her cheek, thumb sliding along the line of her lips. “I’ll be with you the whole time,” he murmurs. “I’m a good swimmer—you’ve been watching me, you know that. I’ll keep you safe.”

She inhales, shaking, and brings her fingers to the button of her shirt. She _wants_ , but at the same time… she stops after three buttons. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Charlie huffs a sigh. “It’s not like we can do this back at the cottage. Bill would take me apart if he thought I had designs on you, and Fleur wouldn’t be that far behind, trying to protect your innocence—an innocence you don’t even have. Sex on the beach is hard on the arse, and I wouldn’t do that to you or me, so in the water it is. Now, do you want to tell me what’s going on so we can get on with it?”

Gabrielle isn’t sure when Charlie moved, but he’s so close to her now, neatly picking open the remaining buttons of her blouse. His sudden shift into plain speech, dropping the allure of seduction, rattles her enough to reply. “You know of the Tri-Wizard competition, oui? I was Fleur’s _thing_ , the one they chose to put under the lake. I haven’t touched water that was not in a bath since.” She drops her gaze again, but that only brings her to staring at his erection, the way it bobbles slightly with every movement, and the flush rises to her skin again. She isn’t sure if she’s more embarrassed by her weakness, or how much she wants to reach out and touch him.

“But you like watching me in the water.” He pulls his hands away and her blouse falls open. His fingers skim up her sides to cup her breasts, teasing across the satin of her bra to flutter against her nipples until they peak. “Yes?”

She thinks of how he looked in the water with it dripping off of him, rising out of the waves like they couldn’t claim him, couldn’t _hold_ him. “Oui.”

“And you trust me?”

She laughs softly, because how could she not? “Oui.”

He deftly undoes the clasp of her bra, nudging her blouse over her shoulders, then tugging the cups loose from her breasts. He thumbs one nipple, bending down to place a gentle kiss there, lapping at it until she shivers. “Then if you want me, you’ll have to brave the water. I think you’ll find you’ve got a little mermaid in you after all.”

Charlie holds his hands out to the sides as he steps back, one-two-three and then the water laps at his ankles, pulling him in. Two more steps and it is up to his knees, and she aches to pull him from it, to bring him with her to the sand and ride him where it is safe.

And he waits, hands out, reaching for her. He waits for her to move past her weakness.

She moves so slowly, shrugging out of her bra and letting it fall atop her blouse on the sand. She unzips her skirt and pushes it down, then lets her knickers follow. It is as if she can feel his gaze on her, hot and hungry, watching every bit of skin that has been revealed. “You want me,” Gabrielle says, and it isn’t a question. It’s written in his expression, avid and waiting. Expecting.

Her smile tilts because now she _is_ in control. She is twenty-two and he is in his thirties and _she_ will say how this encounter goes. When her gaze drops, his prick twitches. “You want me,” she repeats, and she takes a careful step forward.

“And you want me,” he finally replies, as he falls back and disappears beneath the waves.

Gabrielle rushes forward, water licking at her skin, cold and shocking as it seems to cling to her, holding her there. She can’t move backwards and she can’t breathe again until he breaks the surface, sun shining off the water on his skin. He rolls lazily, then lies on his back, stroking himself. Watching.

“Come and get me,” he says, and Merlin help her, she _wants_.

It pulls at her, drags her down, nearly sends her to her knees. She knows it can kill her, can seep into her lungs and make it so that she never awakes. This is the ocean, and it waits like a living thing to swallow her whole.

It also carries the one thing she wants right now, and he lies there like a beautiful thing adorning the waves, waiting for her.

She goes to him. Aching careful step after aching careful step, she goes to him.

“There’s my mermaid girl,” he murmurs, coming to his feet to gather her in. A murmured charm, and Charlie warms Gabrielle’s skin, keeps the chill of the sea at bay. She can almost imagine it’s a bath—a very _large_ bath—if it weren’t for the beach and horizon in her view.

He fits her neatly to him, lifting her with the buoyancy of the water, letting her wrap her legs around him. He slips in without a thought; she is already wet, and moving is easy here. She is full and aching, water lapping at her skin in ways that seem almost sensual, an echo of the way his fingers tease over her, touching her everywhere. 

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs, and when she does it becomes impossible to tell where he ends and the sea begins. It is no longer hands grabbing at her to pull her under. Instead, it becomes a thousand tongues, licking every inch of her body, teasing her nipples, her bottom, even her aching nub. His hands grip her bum, hold her as he thrusts in time with the slow waves of the water, just hard enough to feel good, just slow enough to let the ache build to a burn without resolving.

Gabrielle whines, burying her face in his shoulder, clinging to him with her thighs. He responds by letting the water flow along her ass, tease at her hole with his thumb in a manner that brings shocking pleasure. She hears voices, and wonders at the mermaids coming so close before she realizes that it is her, begging over and over. “Please. Please. Please. Oh Merlin, please.”

She knows it must be magic that carries Charlie back, lets her ride him while they float atop the water, hips undulating slowly. She aches with the need for orgasm, but he doesn’t let her move faster, doesn’t increase the pressure. He only lets her float until the movement of the water and of their hips become one thing, one slow, natural thing that flows over her, into her, all around her.

His thumb brushes against her center, and she shudders, whining. Her fingernails dig into his chest, and he grunts, hips stuttering as if she caught him off guard. She does it again, digging harder and he thrusts up, thumb circling her clit until she breaks over him with a gasp, water splashing when she kicks out with her feet unexpectedly. He goes tense beneath her and his groan echoes across the water when he empties himself inside of her.

Charlie wraps his arms around her, rolls her into the water but keeps her head from going under. The world tilts crazily until they are standing with their toes digging into wet sand, water lapping around her shoulders as he leans her up to kiss her gently.

“The mermaid has claws.”

“You liked it.” She draws one fingernail down his chest, letting it catch across his nipple and loving the swift inhale that he makes.

He merely grins, stroking a hand down her back, trailing water everywhere. “And the sea?”

Gabrielle inhales, trying to find the words for this moment. The fear is still there, still a part of her nightmares she’s sure. She refuses to put her head beneath the waves, to risk her breath to the whim of the sea. But this, right now? “It is only water,” she says slowly. “I might even be persuaded to do this another time.”

“I think we’re stuck at this family reunion for a week.” Charlie looks over her shoulder, towards where the cottage lies upon the beach. “Of course, might get a bit harder to get away once the rest get here. There are an awful lot of Weasleys to get in the way.”

“There is a lot of sea as well,” Gabrielle points out. “Some is more hidden than other parts. And you, you are resourceful. We shall find a way.”

“Because you like the water now.” His grin is infectious, and she smiles back at him even as she shakes her head.

“Non, the water, it is still evil, and if I were alone it might steal me away.” She looks at him seriously, her hands flat against his chest, one over the solid beat of his heart. “But with you, I am safe. And I like sex in the water, and would happily do that again.”

“I’ll turn you into a mermaid yet.” His laugh rumbles as she leans into him, holding him tight as the waves wrap around them. She doesn’t agree, but she doesn’t disabuse him of the notion either. After all, she’ll enjoy letting him try.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me [on tumblr](http://tryslora.tumblr.com)!


End file.
